


A New Order

by Tyranidlord



Series: Sos do dov [11]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Dawnguard, Dawnguard DLC, Drunkenness, Explicit Language, Gen, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Thu'um, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 03:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15743415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyranidlord/pseuds/Tyranidlord
Summary: Striding forward with broadsword tightly gripped in one hand, there was no doubt about Kaius’s true nature as he snarled through a mouth completely filled with needle like fangs. His jaw was somehow unhinged to allow the enormous lengths of the razored teeth that had replaced his mortal ones and there was nothing but inky blackness in his eyes. Even the bones of his face were jutting and erupting forward, twisting his visage into one of vampiric hatred as he shouted Yol toor shul directly into the press of corrupted humanity before him.----------Since the arrival of Serana, the Dawnguard has been preparing for the conflict with the rest of her kind but even with Kaius' assistance they can only do so much. With the arrival of more of Isran's old comrades and new recruits the Order is growing quickly, but it's only a matter of time before their foes arrive...





	1. On the Prowl

**Author's Note:**

> I had way too much fun writing this story. Some of the chapters need a bit of a polish but otherwise I hope everyone enjoys this installment of _Sos do Dov!_

As a rule Isran didn’t walk. He physically couldn’t and not as a result of an injury that had rendered him crippled. He _stalked_ or _prowled_ and those times where he moved at what others would consider a ‘typical’ pace it was because he was taking the time to be more aware of his surroundings. _Walking_ for him was merely the motions that his body underwent as he moved from _A_ , to _B._ Anything else was merely a waste of time and effort.  
  
There was no other way to describe the way that he was currently moving through Fort Dawnguard but _prowling_ and he did it extremely well. At a moment’s notice and without any conscious effort he would be able to move as stealthily as a shadow, or surge into activity like a righteous bolt of lightning. Fully armoured and armed with his hammer and the Light of Dawn there was nothing that walked, crawled, swum or flew throughout Nirn that would take him unawares.  
  
The Fort was busy, as it had been over the previous weeks and the numbers of the Dawnguard were steadily growing. The increasing attacks throughout Skyrim were rallying more and more to their cause and every week a dozen or more pledged themselves to combat the vampiric threat. Even with the numbers who had already fallen in this dark conflict they were almost a hundred strong, some of which were already considerably experienced and able fighters.  
  
Isran was still troubled though, especially as he moved closer to the halls that were those not attending to other duties were training. It was hard not to be troubled as a vampire hunter when two of the fiends shared the same roof as yourself. As he had consistently done so, Kaius had spent most waking hours training the order in the ways of combatting vampires. As much as the creature’s presence and unnatural abilities, even for a vampire churned his stomach and soured his mood Isran could see very clearly that the training was proving highly effective. For fresh recruits and the inexperienced, the first encounter with a vampire was very heavily weighed against them. The terror and unnatural horror that the foul creatures infected any who fought them proved time and time again to be the undoing of the inexperienced and as the previous months had shown it was the first timers that got slaughtered by the droves.  
  
It was an issue shared with any other organisation specialising in fighting the horrors that plagued Tamriel. Isran had seen it numerous times during his time with the Vigilants. The only way to truly cross daedric terrors and unnatural beings was to overcome your fear of them, but this was something that only survivors could learn.  
  
Kaius, like Isran knew this all too well and had almost focussed on this to the exclusion to everything else. He did not hide what he truly was, nor hold back in terrifying and frightening the Dawnguard. During training he was an elemental fury and there had been more than one of his students lose all control over their bodily functions as a result. There was no doubt in Isran’s mind what Kaius was accomplishing in nearly scaring the vampire hunters to death. He was desensitising and immunising them to the full horrors and fears that vampires injected into the veins of mortals and while many hadn’t been tested against a creature seeking their lives it was proving enough to temper their minds and spirits.  
  
Moving past the training hall he heard what was undoubtedly the unconscious shriek from one of the newer recruits. He could also hear the overwhelming fluttering of leathery wings as Kaius shifted into one of his more incredible forms during the ‘lesson’. Whoever the hapless recruit was, they were spoken to directly by their vampiric instructor who used the opportunity to discuss with him and the rest of his fellow trainees how to combat some of the more esoteric abilities of the damned.  
  
What was truly niggling away at him though, like a stone caught inside a gauntlet was the way that Kaius wasn’t trying to pretend to be nice or try to convince any of the Dawnguard that _not all vampires were evil_. Kaius may have done many things but he had never once tried to describe himself as _human_ or _good_. He freely admitted what he had done as a vampire through his long life, his desires and bloodthirsty nature and he constantly reminded everyone of that simple fact.  
  
It didn’t stop Isran wondering whether he would have been happier if Kaius at least tried to get them to like him. That’s what he would have expected from every other vampire.  
  
_Most_ other vampires, he corrected himself as he rounded and corner and came across the other undead resident of Fort Dawnguard. Compared to Kaius, Serana was much easier to understand in many ways. While he didn’t try to understand her reasoning for coming to the very organisation pledged to destroy her and the rest of her kind he at least understood the way she was acting around them. She was a prisoner, and while allowed to travel freely outside of her cell there were always a minimum of two hunters shadowing her at all times. He had put it very simply after he and Kaius had that initial argument when she had first arrived the fortnight before. She was an _asset_. A _resource_ much like the Elder Scroll that she had brought with her.  
  
It did concern him greatly that he and Kaius had actually agreed on what to do with her. Both had initially considered simply killing her but it was obvious that she and the scroll were important to the vampires and that provided a unique opportunity for the Dawnguard. Bait didn’t come so easily, or acted as passively as she did.  
  
In many ways she was the perfect prisoner. She didn’t fight or argue and other than the odd sarcastic quips directed at himself and whoever were her minders at the time she didn’t cause any trouble. Isran had experienced greater issues from little old women during his time as Serana would mostly remain in her room under armed guard with an armful of books, or would wander the ramparts, the halls or watch Kaius and his _thralls_ train the others. They had briefly tried interrogating her for information, but while she gave answers to anything and everything she could it was obvious that Kaius hadn’t been entirely lying about how long she had been locked away for. Her knowledge of the world was woefully out of date and entirely useless.  
  
The Elder Scroll had been a slightly different matter. It provided the opportunity for countless information and power but they had no means of reading or gleaning anything from it. Isran had sent a handful of hunters out seeking one of the province’s Moth Priests but between the civil war, returning dragons and the fact that many of their kind were out seeking the lost Scrolls he wasn’t sure how long it would take to retrieve one.  
  
Some of the groups he had sent out had been successful in their endeavours and moving past the vampiress and her pair of armed guards he moved in the direction of the sound of dogs barking. Gunmar Bear-Breaker and Sorine Jurard had been two of his closest allies in the days when they had served the Vigilants. They all may have gone their separate ways over the years but they both had been found by messengers he had sent, and had both agreed to come to help.  
  
Gunmar had wasted no time acquiring hunting and guard dogs from Riften after he had arrived, and while his other ‘project’ was an enormous cause for alarm for everyone in the fort, Isran was not going to tell him to stop. The experiment the Nordic animal trainer was working on did concern him too if he was being honest, but it also concerned Kaius and that was good enough for him. Although, knowing Gunmar and his way with animals it might very well work and pay off in the end.  
  
Out of all of them it was Sorine that truly had a way with experimenting. Experimenting, engineering, tinkering, researching all came naturally to the petite Breton woman and while she didn’t look like much there had been many a daedra and undead that had been caught off guard from her contraptions. Everything from the solar crystal in Isran’s room to the hand crossbow at his hip had been of her making, and when she had arrived she had done so on a cart overloaded to the point of broken axels with the quantity of scraps, bits, odds and ends and gizmos from years of pillaging every dwemer ruin from Red Mountain to Stros M’kai.  
  
Gunmar’s animal experiments may have been disconcerting but Sorine’s were a whole different matter. He could remember all too well the way one of her experiments had gone when they had been Vigilants that had left a stone hut nothing more than a smouldering crater and Sorine clambering down a tree forty metres away. She may have been left lacking her eyebrows and most of her hair and smelt like charcoal, firesalts and copper for the days to follow but nothing was capable of dampening her spirit.  
  
Some of her recent designs had born fruit, especially her improved crossbows. He didn’t even try to understand how she did it, or where she had managed to acquire the majority of a dwarven sphere but she had managed to engineer a design for a crossbow that was quicker and easier to reload than the ones that had managed to scrounge together. He paused only for the briefest of moments outside of her workshop to see that a small number of Dawnguard were present with her being taught the rudimentary operation of her new weapons.  
  
All in all, establishing the Dawnguard was going surprisingly well. They had suffered casualties in the months previous but they were now beginning to show signs of being able to combat the vampire threat with fire, faith and steel. Turning on his heel and moving back the way he came Isran smiled in his own way, the frown he customarily wore relaxing for a second so brief it barely existed at all.

 


	2. Krent Qostiid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title Translation - Broken Prophecy

Kaius hauled back on the set of chains, grunting and growling to himself at the sheer force required to move them back even the tiniest of inches. They were thick, each link half as thick as his wrist and each were made of some of the strongest steel he had ever seen. Only a destruction mage with a lot of time on their hands could have hoped to have melt their way through or weaken the links enough to break them, and anything short of the Light of Dawn would have struggled to part them at all.  
  
But he hauled on them, swearing and feeling himself sweat as they were slowly inched back and he could feel the corded muscles of his back aching in protest even as he felt the chains shift.  
  
“Enhanced strength to the power of eight… No, nine times that of a normal man. Six times as strong as an average Orsimer.”  
  
“Sorine!”  
  
“Improved durability, toughened bones and cartilage. Bone density alone has to be measured in orders of magnitude.”  
  
“Fuck sakes Sorine!”  
  
A full head shorter than Kaius, the middle aged Breton women suddenly snapped out of her train of thought and rushed over to the towering doors of the Fortress, moving past the collection of hauling, sweating and sweating Dawnguard as they hauled back on the chains and pulled the portcullis from where it had rusted closed decades before. Kaius, like many of the others was stripped to the waist as they put their muscles and weight into pulling the long unused steel grating from where it had been stuck for so long.  
  
The three separate chains of the portcullis had been replaced with newer, freshly forged chains that each weighed several times more than a man, and as part of the ongoing restoration of the fortress the portcullis and gatehouse was the latest section to be restored.  
  
Sorine Jurard's sandy brown hair bounced as she moved away from where she had been staring at Kaius heaving on one of the chains and quickly scampered up the nearby scaffolding. The stone grooves down each side of the gateway had a set of steel rails set into them to assist in the lowering and raising of the enormous metal grating but time and neglect had corroded them like the rest of the fortress. The spoked wheels in the gatehouse had been dismantled and replaced with a trio of enormous pulleys to run the chains down from the gatehouse itself down to the ground floor. This, as Sorine had explained was going to be the only way that they were going to be able to free the portcullis from where it had rusted closed so long ago.  
  
With the application of dwemer oil and the not-so-careful ministrations of a heavy crowbar in Mogrul’s green fists those on the chains felt the portcullis shift slightly before it came free to the metallic shrieks of the damned. It took fifteen of them on the chains to have the strength necessary to lower the portcullis all the way down where it locked itself into the floor, but their cheers drowned out the metallic scraping as it came to a rest.  
  
Kaius dropped his length of chain and wiped his brow with the back of a grime streaked hand. Of the three sets of chains, he had one all to himself while it took seven members of the Dawnguard on each of the others. While obviously gifted with all things engineering and mechanical, Sorine was proving to be as easily distracted as a Khajiit in a warehouse filled with skooma, flitting from one thing to another. In the space of two minutes she had gone from supervising the teams working on the chain, to studying the material composition of the stonework on the floors, to commenting about and taking notes on Kaius’ vampiric strength and durability and everything in between.  
  
“She’s fixed.” Gunmar said and he began feeding his team’s length through the wheels they had bolted into the floor of the main hall. They had initially tried to replace them in the actual gatehouse above the doors until Sorine had confirmed that the floors were no longer structurally sound enough to take the strain.  
  
“That should slow down anything thinking of coming in through the front door at least.” Kaius moved over and helped threat his length of chain through its wheel, ignoring the usual shuffling from the closest vampire hunters as he got close.  
  
“Two thousand, eight hundred and fifty six kilograms of alloy forged in a one-to-five ratio of ebony and steel.” The gleam in Sorine’s eyes was almost sexual as she looked over the metal in front of her with her brain alight with calculations. “Strong enough to withstand dragonfire I’d wager.”  
  
Kaius’ laugh drew her and everyone else attention. “That’s a wager I would take you up on.”  
  
“What? Oh… That’s right. You have experienced dragonfire so I suppose you would be the expert of the subject.”  
  
There were more than one set of eyes that were drawn to the enormous burn scars that covered a majority of Kaius’ torso but he shrugged it away. Sorine’s words may have been harsh but unlike the others there didn’t seem to be any hate or loathing in her tone. He wondered, and not for the first time whether her brain was wired the same way as anyone else.  
  
More grunting and swearing ensured as the three spoked wheels bolted into the floor where hauled back and the portcullis was raised once more. This time there was an obvious reduction in metallic scraping and grinding as the oil that Sorine had continued applying did what it was designed to.  
  
“How’s it all going Kaius?”  
  
Turning from the chained wheel, Kaius glanced over to where Sofia and Lydia were making their way from the direction of the training halls. All three of them had been alternating or working together to train the Dawnguard the best methods for fighting vampires but Kaius was getting called upon to assist with his vampiric nature. “Good. Gatehouse is secured and repaired. Break time I’m guessing?”  
  
Like an experienced conjurer, a bottle of alcohol appeared in Sofia’s hand and she grinned. “You bet. The morning session is over and there are a few who will be licking their wounds for a while.”  
  
“Didn’t beat them too badly?”  
  
“Only the ones that deserved it.” Lydia replied. Out of all of them, Lydia’s attitude was the coldest and was almost on par with Isran’s when it came to Kaius. She still followed him and obeyed him but she didn’t refer to him or his title as thane anymore. She hadn’t since Dimhollow.  
  
Kaius couldn’t help but laugh under his breath at what sort of training his two companions had provided. Their abilities were not to be underestimated and this was a mistake that many of the newer recruits initially made in their first sessions with the two women.  
  
Several members of the Dawnguard began filing in through the reopened gateway, some carrying various supplies and piles of equipment from the wagon that had been drawn up outside. Every day a wagon or two would arrive bearing a considerable amount of material for either repairing the fortress or allowing those within it to be armed, armoured and fed. While he was uncertain where all the money was coming from, he had recently become aware that some of the jarls of several holds where sending money to the Order. Jarl Ravencrone was apparently the largest donor but she was not alone.  
  
The two men who walked inside immediately drew the attention of all present. They were both noticeably different to the collection of ex-stormcloaks, Legion trained soldiers, sell-swords, hunters and daytallers who made up the majority of the Dawnguard. Both were dressed in robes; one a rich if weather beaten orange robes of a priest of Arkay, and the other in a tattered grey set of robes that was as light at the hair on his head. The priest of Arkay was solidly built, filling out his robes with pure muscle that seemed at odds with his profession while the other robed man was well on his way into his fifth decade of life. Both walked through the refurbished gatehouse and looked about with a combination of interest and curiosity.  
  
“No! _No!_ Your kind aren't welcome here, especially _you!_ ”  
  
Isran had a habit of appearing unannounced and once again he proved this ability, storming through the press with a thunderous expression on his face that was wholly directed to the orange robed priest.  
  
“Isran! Arkay told me that I’d find you here. Quite a nice place you have.”  
  
“Yes, it is. You can now make it even better by turning your arse around and marching straight back to where ever it is you came from!”  
  
“Oh shit.” Gunmar murmured, brushing the dirt and oil off his hands down the front of his tunic while sharing an uneasy expression with Sorine.  
  
“Friend of yours?” the giggle from Sofia was infectious and despite themselves Isran’s comrades smiled wearily.  
  
“Not really, but we all go _way_ back.”  
  
“Turn around? I haven’t just spent the past months roaming Skyrim at Arkay’s behest to simply turn around!” The priest’s voice rose almost to a feverish pitch of indignation. For a moment his eyes rose up to the veiling far above everyone’s head as he shrugged. “See what I have to deal with? Never a word of thanks, just ill-will and…”  
  
He trailed off, his eyes, bright and barely focussed came to rest on Kaius and he openly gaped in astonishment. Astonishment that quickly turned into an all-consuming rage that left his face flushed red.  
  
“Unclean monster! Undead filth! I will smite you from this life and the next!”  
  
Kaius couldn’t help but flinch away from the way that the priest recognised what he was and the insanity that lurked within the man’s gaze. Both of his eyes were bright and gleaming, the purity of his faith being overwhelmed by the way his entire face erupted in spasms as he suddenly broke into a run straight at Kaius.  
  
“By the holy catechisms of Arkay I banish you from my sight! You shall be cast down to dust and ash and forever…” Again he stopped in mid-sentence and even stopped his bullish charge straight at Kaius. There was no doubt that the priest had intended on attacking him head on with faith and fury and a set of rosary beads wrapped in a calloused fist, but just as quickly as he had begun he had stopped.  
  
“I… No… But I… are you sure?”  
  
Kaius, Sofia and Lydia shared and uncomfortable glance between themselves and they also noted that they weren’t the only ones doing so at the strange priest’s actions. Several members of the Dawnguard were taking careful steps away from the man, and Isran was pressing his fingers into the bridge of his nose.  
  
The fist and the rosary beads were lowered, the fighter’s stance drooped and just as quickly as he had gone on the attack he had stopped. “Fine. I’ll leave him alone. I think you’re making a mistake though.”  
  
Unable to contain herself any longer, Sofia looked around the room and up at the ceiling where the Priest’s eyes were wandering aimlessly. “Who are you talking to?”  
  
Snapping back into focus again, the priest locked his gaze on Sofia and snapped his whole head so quickly it gave her a start. “Arkay of course. Who else would I be speaking to?”  
  
“You are talking… to a God?” Lydia said, very slowly and carefully as though she was talking to a child or someone with brain damage.  
  
“Of course! I’ve found that in order to speak to an equal, I am forced to converse with a Divine.” The twitching resumed and snapped his whole head to the side in an obvious tic. “ _Shut_ **_up!_** ”  
  
Lydia was taken aback, as where everyone else present. “Excuse me?”  
  
“I wasn’t talking to you.” The eyes flashed in her direction before turning to the ceiling again. “This is some kind of joke you’re playing! Isn’t it bad enough you’re making me come help out this Redguard fool, but a vampire? I… really? You’re serious? I think your head’s been stuck in the clouds for too long.”  
  
“Arkay isn’t the only one.” Kaius heard Gunmar mutter under his breath and he could almost feel Isran’s sigh even with the distance between them as the priest continued talking into the air.  
  
“Are you quite finished Florentius?”  
  
The smile was truthful and without any sign of the twitching that had just been plaguing it mere seconds before. “I am, Arkay is still blabbering on as he does. I don’t know why I put up with him at all sometimes.”  
  
Isran’s scowl deepened even further. “Why are you here?”  
  
“To help support a noble cause of course. Arkay likes the idea of the Dawnguard and he sent me this way and that collecting a few things for you.”  
  
“Things…” The sheer level of sarcasm dripping from Isran’s every word was almost as thick as the dwarven oil that coated Sorine to the elbows. “Things like what?”  
  
“Oh, well… some… things, I suppose. Remedies, cures, a poison or two.” Florentius shrugged and Kaius saw the way how his shoulders bunched and twisted under his robes. The body underneath was as hard as teak and was not that typically found with a man of the cloth. “Look, I’ll be honest with you. I have no idea, but I’m sure we can find something worth everyone’s time.”  
  
“Who is this then?” moving away from the twitching priest Isran roughly brushed past, moving over to the other robed individual who had accompanied him into the fortress.  
  
Clad in a rough, tattered grey robe that had seen far too long of a journey, the man looked up into Isran’s cold expression and bowed slightly. He was by far the oldest of them all present, barring Kaius with his hair turning a faded grey that matched his clothes.  
  
“My name is Dexion Evicus.”  
  
“An Imperial. What brings you here with this man?” The gloved thumb that Isran threw over his shoulder was as subtle as a catapult hurling its ammunition at a castle and the elderly man tried his best not to meet Isran’s gaze.  
  
“I… Ah. This man rescued me from vampires a few weeks ago. Said that the Dawnguard would need of my services before I returned to Cyrodiil.”  
  
“And just what sort of services do you provide?”  
  
“Well, as an acolyte of the Elder Moth Temple I can perform various readings and scrying as I doubt that a group such as yourselves would have an Elder Scroll in your possession.” The sudden stony silence crashed down hard on him as he saw the amazement on everyone expressions. “You... You can’t possibly have an Elder Scroll?”  
  
No one moved, barely anyone could breathe as all of the members of the Dawnguard knew what was locked away in the depths of the fort. There was only one person who had any control or ability to speak and that was Florentius, bouncing on the balls of his feet with a childlike grin on his face.  
  
“I told you! I told you that Arkay said they had one!”

 

* * *

 

 

The preparations for the reading had taken several hours despite the feverish excitement that had gripped the entire Order. Men and women alike were scurrying about, undertaking a thousand minor tasks and almost tripping over themselves in their haste to assist the grey robed moth priest. The Elder Scroll, locked away in heaviest chest available behind several doors as thick as a man’s shoulders was brought out under armed guard and Isran was taking no chances. Every member of the order was fully armed and armoured and on alert as they had done every time the scroll had been brought out.  
  
Dexion was a small, frail appearing man completely at odds to the tough, hard-bitten hunters that he was now sharing the fortress with. There was however a strange energy that filled him as he laid eyes on the glimmering artefact as it was pulled out of its lockbox in the main hall. His eyes seemed to light with fascination and a semi-religious awe at the sight, moving forward and taking it reverently out of the hands of the two Dawnguard who had been chosen to bring it from the vaults.  
  
“Ah. It truly is one of the Scrolls. Remarkable.” He said softly, taking a few short paces with the rolled up artefact in his hands.  
  
The two Dawnguard shared expressions of unease with each other and backed away, placing the lockbox on the stone floor and not wasting any time in moving away. By now the hall was filled with every member of the Dawnguard not on guard or patrolling, but they were all watching the Moth Priest warily.  
  
In Dexion’s hands the scroll seemed to shimmer and glow with otherworldly energies, pulsating in time with a beat that no one could hear let alone understand. It was normal sized for a scroll but the rollers were impressively long and made of something that was gold but not at the same time. Undefinable gems could be seen gleaming across the otherworldly metal and for anyone looking upon them they were unable to even define what colour any of the gems were. All could and did swear that they were sure the gems were never the same colour each time they looked at them.  
  
The whole scroll itself radiated power, and for those such as Sofia, Serana and Kaius with magical ability they had difficulties focusing on the scroll and Dexion. Every few seconds the scroll seemed to twitch and vibrate, moving as though it wasn’t in sync with the rest of reality. Kaius found himself rubbing at his eyes after the first few seconds at it appeared as though the scroll was writhing in the Moth Priest’s grasp.  
  
Steadying himself Dexion held the Scroll in both hands, one firmly grasping the top of the rollers, while the other held the thin strip of the scrolls base as he prepared to unwind and reveal the scroll itself. “Now, if everyone will please be quiet, I must concentrate.”  
  
Whether it was the chill of the fortress, their building uncertainty or some form of power of the scroll no one was certain but a chill ran through the entire assembled group as one, leaving them covered in gooseflesh. Closing his eyes, Dexion breathed out heavily and with a surprising amount of resolve, unfurled the scroll in one smooth motion.  
  
“I see a vision before me, an image of a great bow.” He said, his eyes opening and staring unblinkingly in the face of the Elder Scroll. “I… I know this weapon! It is Auriel’s Bow!”  
  
The collective wave of unease was obvious through the hunters but it was not from the Priest’s words. As soon as the scroll opened Dexion had taken on the same unnatural nature of the scroll, his entire form becoming hazy and twitching as though his entire being was vibrating against the grip reality had upon it. His voice too had subtly changed, sounding distinctly _off_ in a way that no one could truly put their finger on. Some noticed to considerable alarm that his words were no longer matching the movement of his mouth.  
  
“Now a voice whispers, saying “Among the night’s children, a dread lord will rise. In an age of strife, when dragons return to the realm of men, darkness will mingle with light and the night and day will be as one.”  
  
His arms were shaking now, as though he had been holding the scroll aloft for hours but despite the obvious tremor of fatigue there was something in the way that he stood. It was almost as though he couldn’t lower the scroll, or that something wasn’t letting him lower it.  
  
“The voice fades and the words begin to shimmer and distort. But… Wait… there is more here.” Dexion’s mouth and tongue twitched and his was left opening and closing his jaw as though he was in great pain or suffering from some terrible illness. “The secret of the bow’s power is written elsewhere. I think there is more to the prophecy, recorded in other scrolls. Yes… Yes… I see them now. One contains the ancient secrets of the dragons, and the other speaks of the potency of ancient blood.”  
  
“My vision darkens, and I see no more.” The floor beneath his feet seemed to groan noiselessly as Dexion’s grip on the scroll finally wavered and it allowed him to roll it up once more. Trembling, the old man’s arms were shaking as though he suffered some terribly palsy and none of the assembled hunters moved to his aid, too afraid of the relic that was still clutched in his hands.  
  
Kaius was among the first to break out of their stupor and move forward to catch the Moth Priest as he began to droop. Between him and the priest of Arkay, Florentius they managed to keep him steady as one of the hunters plucked the scroll from his willing hands and drop it into the lockbox as though it had stung her.  
  
Dexion was not doing well, the toll of the vison and even the mere act of opening the scroll leaving him looking as though all the moisture had been sucked from his skin and leaving his flesh withered like sun dried leather. He had aged decades in just a few minutes, but what was worse was the way his eyes were horrifically bloodshot to the point where there was no white left in them at all. As they cradled him down to the floor while another hunter dragged over a chair, the tiniest trickle of blood began making its way down his nose into his beard and out of the corner of an eye.  
  
“To know the complete prophecy, we must have the other two scrolls.” he whispered, his unseeing gaze turning and locking directly into Kaius eyes.  
  
The elderly priest’s strength seemed to steadily flow out of him as they lowered him into the chair and Kaius could feel Isran’s presence at his back. The veteran vampire hunter’s gaze only wavered from Dexion’s pale form for a moment to send a distrustful glance at Kaius, but there was a hint of softness in his voice as he moved in to assist.  
  
“Come on old man. You should get some rest.”  
  
Letting the hunters and the priest take Dexion away, Kaius rose to his feet and looked down at the lockbox with the scroll now safely contained once more. Three scrolls needed to unlock the full prophecy. The Bow of Auriel. Night and day becoming as one. He knew that he should have been more concerned about the fact that they would need to find two more scrolls but he couldn’t help but wonder how quickly the world would succumb to the _other_ threat if Harkon did what Serana said he was intending to do.  
  
As he looked up and his eyes met those of his companions and the shadowed form of Serana standing off to the side, he realised that he was the only one who understood that vampires would be the least of their concerns if the world was plunged into eternal night.


	3. Gathering Shadows

  
_Four days later_  
  
The dining hall had been expanded upon as the Dawnguard’s ranks expanded, and gone were the days where a single roasting spit hung over a fire built in the crumbled hole in the centre. The kitchens too had been repaired and renovated, the chimneys scrubbed clean of decades, if not centuries of soot, dust and birdnests to allow the half dozen ovens and hearths to cook for the dozens who lived there. All of the hunters would rotate through cooking and preparing meals for the others, but it didn’t take long for the handful with actual cooking skill and experience to become the dedicated cooks. Beleval, one of the few Bosmer members of the order had quickly become renowned for her stews and roasts and was kept busy whenever she wasn’t training.  
  
“So what are your intentions?”  
  
Isran’s face became thunderous as he looked up from where he and the other high ranking Dawnguard were sitting down in preparation for dinner. To all present, Kaius’ expression was borderline infuriating at the best of times but for once he seemed calm and amicable.  
  
“I’ll be here for the time being. Training is progressing well but it won’t be long before they will all have learnt as much as they can without actually killing vampires in the field.”  
  
The grunt from Isran was a sign of agreeance despite the fact that he didn’t want to have anything in common with the vampire standing at the edge of his table, let alone agree with any of _its_ opinions.  
  
Celann, Durak, Gunmar and Sorine had all shifted subtly away when Kaius had strode over and interrupted their discussions and plans for the coming days. Only Isran had sat as though made of stone, not shying away at the slightest as the vampire approached.  
  
“That sounds like you are considering leaving again.”  
  
Kaius nodded. “I’ve done as much as I can and I’ve been thinking about Dexion’s reading. There’s a good chance that the scroll that I have been seeking is the same one that we need.”  
  
For a moment Isran’s eyes closed and he sighed loudly. “I heard a lot of vague nonsense. You could interpret that a hundred different ways. Only thing that stood out for me was Auriel’s Bow. That’s a powerful weapon, and I sure as Oblivion don’t want _vampires_ to get hold of it.”  
  
“I’m not interested in some forgotten or lost Aedric artefact. Harkon is the primary threat.”  
  
“Well, to me you are the _primary_ threat. I don’t trust _you_ , I don’t trust your _thralls_ and I especially don’t trust the _bitch_ suck-head. When I established the Dawnguard I intended on removing your kind from Skyrim and beyond, not running a fucking bed and breakfast for you all.”  
  
“In that case, I’d like to complain to the proprietor about the state of my living quarters. The bed is a far cry from what I call comfortable.”  
  
The flash of anger on Isran’s face was obvious to everyone present and the other hunters flinched in expectation of him trying to defeat Kaius yet again. Their ‘fights’ were almost as regular as dwemer clockwork and every few days he would try to slay Kaius, trying new and different techniques or testing one or more of Sorine’s latest contraptions. So far the worst that Kaius had shown for it was a light cut across one of his arms and a bit of ruined chainmail from the edge of the Light of Dawn. In the meantime Isran’s hatred for the vampire was building to all new heights.  
  
Instead of attacking Isran simply stiffened, forcibly took control of his rage and bottled it away to Kaius’ amusement. They all watched as Kaius’ grin grew larger and he rose from his seat and patted Isran on the shoulder. “I’ll let you know if I learn of anything about the other scrolls. In the meantime, try not to have a stroke old man.”  
  
Other than the subtle twitch in his eye, Isran’s face was a mask devoid of all emotion as he turned back to the others at his table. Unnoticed to each other, the other four hunters all breathed out tiny sighs of relief at Kaius’ departure, and that they wouldn’t have to watch half the dining room get destroyed in another fruitless battle.  
  
Fixing his eyes on Gunmar, Isran sighed and went back to the conversation they were having before the vampiric interruption. “We’re not going to have a problem with your little… project are we?”  
  
Leaving the conversation behind him, Kaius ignored the way how Gunmar did everything he could to allay everyone fears about his ‘pets’ and made his way over to his own table. In the dining hall there were several enormous tables and benches and he was sure that there was enough space to have the entire order present if required but there was one table that none of them ever sat at.  
  
It was known by several names, most of which were derogatory but it was Kaius’ table, and the only one where he, Sofia, Lydia and Serana could sit for their meals without causing too much disruption. Stuck into the corner of the dining hall, the single table was obviously set apart from all the others, but so far Kaius and the others had been happy for the distance between them all.  
  
Serana was sitting there with her small collection of books, quietly reading her way through the accumulated histories of the past three eras. She spent most of her days wandering about the fortress, ‘moping’ as Sofia had described it but over the past days she was spending more and more time in the dining hall reading. No one had really had much to do with her since her arrival at the fortress but as the only two vampires with the Dawnguard she and Kaius had spent time together. Most days they briefly chatted, but it was obvious that she was preferring the comfort of his company as his presence ensured that she was treated well by the hunters.  
  
Kaius took his seat and spared her a glance before shifting the small pile of papers that he had scattered about on its surface. The inkwell and quill had been put to good use over the previous hours as he had been taking copious notes on several of the sheets, but there was a single letter that he had been poring over since it had arrived. More than one sheet soon became host to an ever increasing series of equations and numbers as he read through the letter, made a few notes and calculations before returning to the letter.  
  
At least he was for the first twenty minutes before Sofia promptly flopped herself around him with a bottle of mead in one hand.  
  
“ _Heeeyyyy_ Kaius. Hey Serana.” She giggled at them both, bending over at the waist and peering over Kaius shoulder. “Whatcha up to.”  
  
Serana had obviously not been able to decide how to react to Sofia and kept her face carefully blank. “Reading.”  
  
Shrugging Sofia’s weight away from his writing arm, Kaius carefully put the quill down next to the ink pot and ensured that the wax stopper was secure. He knew from experience was that sometimes she had all the subtly of a minotaur in a store selling homewares.  
  
“Going over a letter from Delphine.”  
  
“Oooooh… _Secret Blade stuff_ eh?”  
  
He carefully nodded, gesturing to the letter. “She and Esbern have had success in tracking down the Dragon Scroll.”  
  
“Really? What sort of success?”  
  
He sighed and tried to ignore the way that both of Sofia’s arms were dangling over his shoulders, one hand tracing idly patterns over his steel breastplate while rattling her fingernails over the metal. “I’m not sure yet. I’m still trying to decode the message.”  
  
Sofia’s weight shifted again and she leaned forward to see the scribbling notes that he had made over the other sheets of paper. The calculations looked enough to give her a headache even without understanding them. “Looks difficult.”  
  
“If it was easy then the Thalmor would be able to read our messages.”  
  
“But didn’t the Thalmor kill off all the Blades? Doesn’t that mean they know your codes and tricks?”  
  
His nod jostled her slightly. “Well… yes. But there are codes they didn’t break. This one for example is unbreakable but it takes a lot of preparation on the part of both individuals before any messages can be sent. Both of the individuals in question have to not only mutually decide on a specific number but remember the day that they chose the number. Those two numbers are then utilised for the series of calculations as each letter is a different equation. Only by getting the correct answer can you discover which letter or word on the coded message is the next in the sequence.”  
  
“So how long will it take to translate?”  
  
“I’ve been at it for… five hours now and I have managed to translate _‘E, Successful. Meet at’_. ‘E’ means Esbern and I’m now trying to work out where they want us to meet.”  
  
“Yep. Sounds like a lot of fun Kaius.” Twisting around, Sofia pulled his shoulders back while flopping herself onto his lap, face to face and between him and his notetaking. “I have a question.”  
  
Her arms were still around him, but hanging loosely and the bottle of mead swished next to his head alarmingly for a moment before she raised it to her lips. “You could say that you have my undivided attention.”  
  
The hesitation was obvious and she went to open her mouth to speak, stopped, took another mouthful of the mead and wiped her mouth on the back of a hand. “Why haven’t we slept together?”  
  
Whatever Kaius was expecting, this question wasn’t one of them and he obviously froze. “Uh… what do you mean?’  
  
“Slept together Kaius. As in, bumped uglies. Horizontally danced. Rolled in the hay. Done ye’old rough-and-tumble. You know… _Fucked_.”  
  
“You’re drunk.”  
  
The high pitched, childish giggle was loud enough to draw the attention of some of the nearby hunters but Sofia paid it no heed. “And you’re sexy. You know how much I needed to drink to simply say that out loud?” the pause was only for a few seconds and Sofia had to squint and force her eyes to focus. “I don’t really know myself but it was a _lot_.”  
  
“It... It hasn’t occurred to me.”  
  
“Bull. Shit.” The bottle rapped against his chest as she leant back in his lap. “I’ve seen you look at me. Hells, I seen you look at Lydia and _plenty_ of other women before. I’ve even seen you stealing glances at this one.”  
  
Serana’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates as Sofia leaned back and widely gestured in her direction with a swing of an arm. For those few seconds before she regained control over her emotions, neither Kaius or Sofia were sure whether Serana was shocked, embarrassed or alarmed.  
  
“So what it is eh? I know there is nothing wrong with you or _it_.” There was no doubt where she was pointing with the bottle despite the way she was swaying. “We’ve been together for over a _year_ and I’ve seen enough to know that all those burns and scars of yours haven’t affected what matters.”  
  
“Sofia, you need to…”  
  
“What? Stop?” As slowly and as carefully as she could with how drunk she was, Sofia had begun grinding herself on his lap. “Just answer the question. Why haven’t we fucked each other’s brains out? I have never met a man in my entire life who didn’t want me from the moment that he laid eyes on me and yet here you are, all stoic and calm and able to face dragons and vampires and daedra without batting an eye. Yet, you’re still reacting to little old me…”  
  
Without warning Kaius’ hands reached up and gripped Sofia by the waist, stopping her movements and the way she was grinding on him. A cold chill passed through her as she found herself unable to move and she knew that if she wasn’t wearing her chainmail that his fingers would have left bruises.  
  
“Don’t. It’s not that I don’t want to… It’s just…”  
  
“Just what Kaius?”  
  
The silence that fell was obvious and for the first time since they had met he actually appeared nervous. Something within Sofia’s mind _clicked_ even through the alcoholic haze.  
  
“There’s someone else.”  
  
“Yes... _No_. In a way...” Very, very carefully he released his grip on his hips and lifted her arms from his shoulders. “What am I Sofia?”  
  
“Fucking _hot_.” The words practically purred their way from between Sofia’s lips.  
  
“No. _What_ am I?”  
  
Hearing the growled emphasis in his tone she scowled right back at him. “A vampire.”  
  
“Yes. And what does that mean?”  
  
Scrunching her face with effort she looked into his eyes and shrugged, spilling some of the mead on herself before taking another mouthful. “Don’t ask big questions like that. They hurt my brain.”  
  
“It means that I am _immortal_.” The word immortal cut through the drunken parts of her brain and left her wincing. “Unless I am killed by a dragon, or someone like Isran, I will live _forever_. Everyone else I have and will ever know will wither and die and pass into my memories.”  
  
“So you’re saying that you can’t relax, unwind and fuck me because one day I’ll be dead and you won’t?”  
  
“Not when you put it like that.”  
  
The bottle shook itself under his chin and he brushed the hand away. “We all die Kaius, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t relax from time to time. If anything you need to do it more!”  
  
“You sound like Viconia.”  
  
The name cut through and silenced her in mid thought, and she leaned in until she could feel Kaius’ breath on her lips. “Who’s Viconia?”  
  
“My wife.”  
  
Painful, awkward silence fell and she sat still, looking into his eyes even as he looked everywhere but into her own.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Yeah. _Oh_.”  
  
“Well, I should’ve expected that you were married, being immortal and all. Where is she?”  
  
“A long way away.”  
  
“Then what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”  
  
The grip that materialised on her hand holding the bottle of mead as she tried to put it to Kaius’ lips was stronger than skyforge steel and she whimpered at the sudden and unexpected pressure. It only lasted for a second before it was gone and she sat up straight again, seeing the darkened expression on his face.  
  
“I just went too far didn’t I?”  
  
Her own expression was different and must have shown the building horror of realisation that she had upset him but she was relieved when he laughed slightly.  
  
“A little but it’s okay.”  
  
“I’ve just made a complete idiot of myself.”  
  
“Nice to see that you don’t change.”  
  
She slapped his shoulder playfully and stood up, stepping over him as she straddled the bench instead. “I am an expert in _everything_ , but I’m exceptional at making myself to be a complete arse.” Seeing the far away expression on his face she leaned forward very slightly. “What’s she like?”  
  
Kaius grinned. “Tough. Tougher than you. _Much_ tougher than me but she can be as delicate as a flower when she needs to be. She never really shows you how she’s truly feeling, but on those rare occasions when she smiles, _truly_ smiles… the whole world lights up and grows brighter.”  
  
“When was the last time you saw her?” came the soft voice, and both Kaius and Sofia looked up to see Serana sitting there quietly, keeping her own emotions carefully hidden.  
  
“Three years and eight months. Give or take a few weeks.” He scratched at his jaw in slight embarrassment at the precise number and how easily it had come to mind. “and it will be just as long, if not longer before I get to see her again.”  
  
Somehow sensing the unhappy territory they had entered through her drunkenness, Sofia struggled to beat her brain into thinking clearly. “Do you have children?”  
  
Kaius shrugged, and somehow an eternity of emotion was pressed into such a tiny, simple motion. “We had children. Once.”  
  
The silence that fell this time was all encompassing, and Sofia was left with an expression that perfectly highlighted the way that she was internally vocalising the word _fuck_. “I truly wish I wasn’t this perfect at everything, especially screwing up. I’m sorry.”  
  
He waved her apology off even as he accepted it. “Don’t worry about it. Its fine.”  
  
Taking great care to stand up, Sofia managed to somehow extricate herself from the bench she and Kaius were sitting on and only mostly jostled the table. Leaving herself rubbing at the knee that had slammed into the bottom of the table and left the contents rattling, she gave Kaius her best smile while trying to hide the pain she was feeling. Both the physical and the mental.  
  
“I’m… going to go… Before I put my foot any further down my throat or fuck things up any further.”  
  
“You haven’t fucked up Sofia.” For the briefest of moments Kaius’ arms wrapped around Sofia’s waist and she felt the unnatural strength in them. “Don’t stress yourself out too much.”  
  
“Me? Stress out? Surely you have me mixed up with that housecarl of yours.” Despite the lightness of her tone, Sofia couldn’t help but feel shattered inside. What made it worse was the way that she knew that Kaius understood exactly how she was feeling and what she was thinking. “I’m going to go find more mead, someone more attractive than you and then jump the _Oblivion_ out of their bones.”  
  
“Like that young woodsman?” the twinkle in Kaius’ eye was unmistakable despite the memories that he was struggling to supress.  
  
“Agmaer? Nah. I reckon I’d _break_ the poor bastard.”  
  
Nodding to Kaius and Serana, Sofia quickly finished off the last of her mead, burped and promptly staggered off in a _very_ wobbly line for one of the entrances.  
  
“That was awkward.” Kaius muttered to himself and looked over to Serana who was trying her best not to look anywhere in his direction. “Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m…” she sighed. “That was interesting.”  
  
“It’s not normally like this.”  
  
“I wouldn’t know.”  
  
Hearing the strange inflection in her tone and the way that Serana’s eyes travelled across the handful of books she had on the table in front of her Kaius tilted his head towards her. “Four thousand years is a long time. The world changes a lot.”  
  
A laugh was not something that he expected. “Changes? I _really_ wouldn’t know. This is the most I have ever been out of the Castle… out of my… home. I’m not used to seeing people interact and talk and…” she gestured to Kaius and in the direction that Sofia had disappeared.  
  
“Coming from a family of vampires I would expect you had a very… _conservative_ upbringing.”  
  
“I don’t understand your words, but if you mean _shut-in_ , then yes. I didn’t know much of the world before I was shut away; only from what I read in books and what I heard in my father’s court. I’ve only ever heard of the world, and I’ve never actually _seen_ it.” her bitterness was almost palatable on the tongue, almost as much as the strange _longing_ coming from within the ancient vampiress. “The world and the ways of mortals mightn’t have changed at all and I simply wouldn’t know of the difference.”  
  
The sadness vanished as quickly as it had appeared and she crushed it inside with an iron will. For several moments Kaius sat there quietly, watching as Serana’s attentions went back to the book she was reading before reading for the quill and inkpot. His own thoughts returned to the Underdark and everything he had done in the past two centuries and he could sympathise.  
  
“That makes two of us.” he said simply, too softly even for a vampire to hear as he removed the stopper from the inkpot.  


* * *

 

  
  
Lynoit slowly paced his way along the walls of the Fort, one gloved hand holding the lantern at waist height while the other rested comfortably on his swords hilt. The chill of the evening was slowly working its way into his bones but despite the hour it was still quite comfortable. The Rift was known for some of the more pleasant weather throughout Skyrim, and unlike Falkreath Hold it wasn’t continuously damp and raining. Clear nights were normal, and both the pale faces of Masser and Secunda could be seen in the night time sky, illuminating the land in a stark contrast between pitch-black shadows and ghostly grey shapes. Owls hooted off in the distance, wolves could be heard beyond the canyon and the strange clicking of bats could be heard on occasion as they flitted about in their hunt for insects.  
  
It was calm, peaceful and almost serene enough that he and the other members of the Dawnguard could relax but the darkness was deceptive. The night was the home of the creatures their order existed to hunt and they themselves were little more than prey.  
  
Highly armed and increasingly well trained prey possibly, but still prey. Lynoit had been with the order for a few months now, almost since the very beginning and he had seen the changes that had come about with the arrival of Kaius and his companions. Training to fight vampires was one thing, but training to fight vampires against an actual vampire was a different story entirely. They had learned more in the past weeks than what they would have if they had somehow managed to survive _years_ against the creatures.  
  
One of the first lessons that Kaius had hammered into them was never to let their guards down. He had, and did constantly test all of the hunters, especially those on the night time patrols. One of the first evenings he had made a complete mockery of the guards, taking a stick of charcoal and proceeding to mark each and every guard that he could using his vampiric abilities. He had shifted with the shadows, ambushed and waylaid and on at least one occasion had ‘cut the throat’ of one of the guards who had the temerity to sleep on duty. That particular guard had woken with his neck marked with a thick black streak of charcoal, to Isran’s extreme displeasure. No one since then had even blinked for more than a second while they were patrolling the ramparts.  
  
Kaius had continued to test and probe and teach since then. Those hunters in the order that chose to ignore his teachings were soon proven to be fools despite the natural inclination to despise and hate everything that he stood for and represented. Even Isran had never hidden his dislike or hatred of Kaius but he had on more than one occasion agreed with what the vampire taught.  
  
Like the techniques and manner that they patrolled the ramparts. Normally most people would have simply got the Dawnguard to patrol up and back, up and back for an hour or two or for half the night but Kaius had ripped that method apart on the first night. Staggered shifts, randomised patrol patterns and even timings were changed and rearranged to remove any pattern that an attacker could exploit. Initially most believed that they were safe and that the fortress was inviolate but then came the nights that Kaius had purposely locked himself outside. Those were the nights that he had managed to climb the walls, marking a few people with charcoal before slipping inside. One night he somehow managed to get inside the fortress without ‘killing’ anyone or being seen. Isran especially wasn’t happy to find the vampire asleep in his quarters and those on guard that night were not going to forget it any time soon.  
  
Since then Kaius had constantly and randomly probed their defences, taking full advantage of his abilities to test them all. It was proving beneficial as whoever was on guard really was guarding against something, and if they were defending against Kaius then they were also actively defending against anything and everything else.  
  
Stopping every few paces at random, Lynoit would look across the enormous fortress at the other bobbing lanterns that revealed the other guards before peering into the night consumed canyon. It truly was peaceful but it had been just as quiet and calm that night that he had been ‘killed’ by Kaius. He still remembered the way that the vampire had folded itself into the shadows and crept up behind him. He especially remembered the advice that Kaius had given him not to search with his eyes but with his gut. Vampires could be invisible in the darkness if they chose, but they would never be able to hide their unnatural natures. Mortals would quail and sense them without seeing, hearing or feeling them and it was this sense that would alert them to danger.  
  
It was this strange sensation, the crawling, prickly sensation of spiders up the base of his spine that gave him pause and he knew without a doubt that a vampire was close by. The sensation matched the time that Kaius had come up behind but this time the hands that gripped his mouth closed were not gloved or gentle. Gnarled like a hagraven’s, the taloned fingers wrapped around his neck even before he could truly register the presence and in one swift shocking movement he was left looking over his own shoulders into the darkness. Other than the popping of his spine as though someone had cracked their knuckles there was no sound, no cry or pained exclamation. He simply died, his body dropping and being caught as the life left him.  
  
A helm was pushed down over a face made feral with hate, the glint of fangs being seen in the flickering light but within a second it appeared as though nothing had happened at all. The lantern was plucked out of Lynoit’s suddenly limp hands before it could fall and the creature simply continued on.  
  
A trapdoor leading down into the fortress was raised by the armoured, lantern carrying figure before it continued on with its patrol. Only the blood that stained the front of the brigandine armour showed that it didn’t belong to the vampire wearing it, and that its original owner was introducing themselves to their ancestors in the afterlife. There was no one close enough to see such a detail, and as the armoured creature walked away from the now opened hatch, the shadows writhed and twisted as several more of its kind flitted inside.


	4. Blood ties and spilled blood

After making a fool of herself with Kaius, Sofia had done what she knew best. Get drunk.  
  
Not just regularly drunk, but entirely, bone wateringly, mind devastatingly drunk. She knew that the first thing that Gunmar had done when he arrived besides lock up all of his critters was set up a still. The fiery mixture that she had swiped from it after leaving the dining hall tasted like an equivalent to a punch to the head and a mouthful of firesalts. As horrendous as it was, it was serving its purpose and getting her end-of-the-world drunk.  
  
What it wasn’t doing was getting her brain to _shut up_. That tiny little voice in the back of her skull, the one that had always been warning her about such things as ‘punching that guard in the head’ or ‘hanging out with the stranger smelling of fire who dropped his pack on her in the stables’ was incessant and refusing to go away.  
  
So she continued drinking, constantly moving about the fortress and despite her words to Kaius she wasn’t seeking anything, or to be precise… _Anyone_ … For one of the few times in her life she didn’t feel like finding the first guy to show her any attention and drag him somewhere. Instead she just wanted to find some hole somewhere, pull the dirt over herself and hide away from the world.  
  
As she couldn’t do that at the moment she had settled for the next best thing; drinking until she couldn’t feel feelings anymore.  
  
“Kaius is such a bastard...” She slurred to herself, each word and syllable blurring together until it was a single _khaiusishsushabashard_. “of _course_ he has a wife. Of _course_ he has children. And stupid me has to go and stick my foot in it like that. In front of _her_ as well.”  
  
The bottle filled with the potent alcohol burned her mouth but it was numb from the other two bottles she had finished already. “I mean; it’s not like I can help myself. He’s the first guy who I have actually _like_ liked and then he has to go ahead and treat me like a person.”  
  
The bottle in her hand seemed to grow heavier for a moment and she leant against the wall, feeling the cold stone press into her bare shoulder. “Why can’t he treat me like everyone else does? Wouldn’t that be easier? But no. here I am, roaming about some bloody fortress in the arse end of Skyrim feeling sorry for myself.”  
  
Again taking a mouthful of alcohol and wincing, she sighed and flopped fully against the wall, feeling the chill onto her bare flesh and realising that she was deficit some articles of clothing she hadn’t earlier. For a brief moment she wondered when or how she lost her chainmail shirt before she wondered whether she even cared.  
  
“What do you think I should do? I mean, it’s not like I haven’t simply wandered off and left a guy in the middle of the wild before.” If the bottle had any answers, it refused to give up such secrets and she took a swig instead. “Then again, Amauoc was an _idiot_. I get drunk and love drinking but I’ve _never_ been that drunk to get married to a hagraven. It also wasn’t my fault that he gave the thing his ma’s ring.”  
  
Pressing down hard, the silence in the corridor echoed her words and she suddenly found herself feeling extremely self-conscious. It wasn’t a feeling that she had ever truly enjoyed and she dealt with it as she always did, by attacking it head on.  
  
Kicking off the wall, she stepped, staggered and swayed into the approximation of being upright, briefly stopping and leaning against a torch sconce before swinging into motion again. “Damn Kaius and being all noble. And honourable. And nice. And handsome. And nice.”  
  
She blinked, staggering and taking another mouthful as she tried and failed to grasp the train of thought running through her mind. Instead she found herself staring at the bottle in her hand suspiciously as it was distinctly lighter than what she supposed it should have been.  
  
“Fuck him, fuck everything, fuck – _hic_ – oh. Great. – _hic_ – Just what I need.”  
  
The hiccups began and she sat on a nearby crate that looked older than what she did, giggling for a moment before lowering her head to her chest. “Gods – _hic_ – damn – _hic_ – it – _hic_ – all.”  
  
For the third time in the past hour, the bottle was empty and she stared at it while trying and failing to contain the hiccups. There were barely any dregs in it from the potent grain mixture and she sighed. “Of course – _hic_ – I have to get feelings for a man that – _hic_ – can’t have any for me.”  
  
Throwing the bottle across the floor, it bounced and rattled alarmingly loud and she jumped at the noise. Dragging the fourth and last of the potent brews from where it had been jammed between her belt and her hip she began pulling at the cork, hissing for the rolling bottle to be quiet before breaking out into giggles.  
  
She was halfway through removing the cork when she realised that she wasn’t alone in the corridor. A few meters away stood a shadowed figure, standing silently and watch her go about opening her last pilfered bottle.  
  
“Hey there.”  
  
Freezing like a deer caught by a hunter, she was in the process of pulling the cork out with her teeth as she heard the voice. It was soft and subtle, but obviously a man’s.  
  
“Hey there – _hic_ – yourself. Can’t you see – _hic_ – that I’m busy?”  
  
Partially concealed in the shadows, the man stepped forward, moving closer to where she sat on the chest and the nearby torch sconces. “I can, but I was wondering whether a gorgeous creature like yourself would like some help with that?”  
  
Her instincts for identifying a fool had paid off handsomely over the years as she had travelled from tavern to inn to coaching house on a wave of freeze booze and coin that her looks provided her. Normally, such a reaction from any man would have sent them into overdrive and her into a mass of batting eyelashes, swinging hips and poses that would accentuate her ‘assets.’ This time the tiny voice, mostly drowned in alcohol hissed directly into her ear and forced her to look the man in the eye.  
  
He was a little taller than she was, not as tall as Kaius but roughly the same height as Isran. There was none of the hardness that was present in either of those men in this individual but he moved over to her with a winning smile on his face.  
  
“You look like you could do with some company.”  
  
“You might think that, – _hic_ – but unless you are bringing more bo– _hic_ –oze you can go think that elsewhere.”  
  
If he was put out by her tone he didn’t show it, instead he continued to move closer until only a few short metres separated them. “Is that the price of spending time with someone of your beauty?”  
  
The tiny voice was now screaming and if it had hands it would be alternating shaking her brain and giving slaps up the side of the head. Slowly though it was beginning to break through the alcoholic daze and she began watching him very carefully.  
  
“Maybe. Maybe I just – _hic_ – want to be alone.”  
  
“Solitude is a double edged sword.”  
  
She looked him over with an appraising eye, and only one eye as she had to close the other just to be able to focus. He was definitely shorter than Kaius and had a few centimetres on her but there was something strange about the way he stood there. Like the rest of the Dawnguard he wore the steel brigandine of the Order but unlike the others it clung to him like a sack rather than the finely tailored and crafted suit of armour. What’s more was Sofia could see that there was a darkened stain smeared into his collar.  
  
“I don’t know you.”  
  
“Oh, I’ll introduce myself in that case.” The smile was filled with perfect white teeth, framed in a handsome, weather beaten face of Redguard ancestry. “I’m Namasur.”  
  
Despite the alcohol her gaze hardened and she staggered upright. “I – _hic_ – still don’t know you.”  
  
“Well, I’m new to the Dawnguard. Arrived yesterday.”  
  
“No you didn’t.” The alcohol was thundering its way through her veins and clouding her brain but the certainty was obvious. “I have been helping train – _hic_ – every member of the Dawnguard for the past three we– _hic_ –eks. I’ve never seen you before.”  
  
“Oh well. It doesn’t matter.” The smile this time was darker, the eyes clouding with shadow until burning glows appeared. “After tonight the Dawnguard won’t exist.”  
  
Hissing and now obviously wearing stolen armour, the vampire’s fangs pushed out of its gums and removed any doubt from Sofia’s mind. Even with the booze in her veins she was expecting the attack, but because of her drunkenness there wasn’t much she could really do about it. Unarmed, partially naked and having lost her chainmail shirt somewhere over the previous hours she had no choice but to fall back on her magicka, magicka that was being hindered by the fact that she was struggling to stand up straight let alone anything else.  
  
The spell still managed to crash into the onrushing creature of the night and stop it in mid stride. In her haste she had reflexively cast the first spell that she could think of, which in her current state of mind was not what could be considered a ‘normal’ spell.  
  
“What the…” the vampire hissed, stopping in mid motion, jaw open wide in surprise as it looked down at where the spell had hit it in the chest. The bolt of magicka was no firebolt, cast lightning or ice spike but a glimmering green splatter that clung to its clothing and stolen armour like glue. Unlike glue however it was spreading, eating and consuming and within seconds Namasur was completely naked.  
  
“What the fuck was that?”  
  
Sofia’s grin, despite the anger and incredulity of the situation before her put even the vampires fang filled maw to shame. “Bet you weren’t – _hic_ – expecting that!”  
  
“I’m going to break you in half and rape your corpse!”  
  
The second bolt of magicka was not a clothes-eating spell that she had got one of the students at the college of Winterhold to teach her those years before. This one was a _real_ spell taught by Kaius and it hit the vampire in the face and shattered its teeth and broke its nose. Kaius had never told her where he had learned the spell but it hit with all the force of a punch from an orc with the burning effects of a bolt of lightning.  
  
Stunned, bleeding and trying desperately to see, the vampire was completely unprepared as Sofia staggered towards it, moving in closer as it tried to get its bearings. Before it even realised what was happening her last bottle had been broken over its face before the shattered glass was jammed into a throat.  
  
If she hadn’t been so drunk she would have been more concerned by the fact that she had just been attacked by a vampire. Instead she found herself looking down at the broken bottle clenched in her fist and the way the now burning vampire was writhing on the floor was being helped along by the highly flammable mixture it was coated in. It seemed to be such a waste of good alcohol.  
  
Sighing loudly in annoyance, Sofia toed the crumbling, smouldering remains with a boot and looked about the darkened corridor. Somehow the importance of what had just happened managed to make its way into her mind and she turned and began stumbling her way as fast as she could in the direction of the living quarters. The alarm needed to be raised.

 

* * *

   
  
Shortly after Sofia had left the dining hall, Serana had followed suit. Choosing to retire to the privacy and solitude of her ‘quarters’ rather than spend any more time with others, it was a comfort when the wooden door closed her off to the world. It was strangely comforting being enclosed and locked away like a fragile trinket, and in a lot of ways it was all she was used to. Her home had never really felt like a home and there was little difference between the time before she was placed into Dimhollow and the months since being awoken.  
  
She knew that she was supposed to feel bitter or betrayed at the fact that the Dawnguard, a group of vampire hunters were providing her with greater freedoms than what her own family had both before and after they became vampires. Her fate it seemed was to be forever locked away from the world, reading and dreaming and imagining what it was like outside the stone walls where she… _existed_ …  
  
But then she didn’t really have to imagine anymore. At least not everything. It was this thought that make her growl to herself and put down the book she had been reading about the history of the 2nd Empire. She had seen a tiny fraction of the world during the journey between Dimhollow and Castle Volkihar. Kaius, Sofia and Lydia may not have been the nicest or subtlest of travelling companions but they treated her almost something like an equal. Sofia and Lydia may have been wary, and there had always been the overhanging threat that Kaius would have simply killed her at a moment’s notice but they were _fair_.  
  
The Dawnguard, despite her initial expectations didn’t go out of their way to treat her unduly or otherwise abuse her. There was no torture, no beatings of any kind and nor did they treat her like an animal. She got the impression that they all were doing so on purpose and not just because of the unspoken issues rising from Kaius’ presence. They were treating her well because they expected themselves to and they were striving to be better than the creatures they hunted. Serana remembered all too well after Kaius had turned down her father’s offer of his blood and had been banished from the castle. She had been locked away in her room as though four thousand years hadn’t past and she was a teenager again. guards had been posted outside of her door and other than the thrall who would enter and obediently offer their throat to her there had been no interactions at all.  
  
Gods-be-damned, her father hadn’t even bother coming to check on her but instead had been content with the fact that she was in his ‘care’ once more. At least someone from the Dawnguard would knock on her door before entering to see if there was anything she would like or to merely check on her. Once or twice a day they would even provide a waterskin filled with the lukewarm remnants of a deer or other animal's blood, as well as ensuring that she was able to walk about whenever and almost wherever she liked. It was… _confusing_ to say the least.  
  
What was even more confusing was the sudden sounds of scuffling outside of her door that made her rise to her feet. The guards, as they always had these previous days had simply let her shut the door behind herself and didn’t even bother with the motions of locking it. Those responsible for her guard duty were equipped with the best weapons, armour and a collection of Sorine’s ‘trinkets’ and Serana knew that it would not take much for them to use them.  
  
There was a fleshy thump, and a rattle of metal on stone before the jingling of keys and the shuddering of a lock made itself heard. This was immediately suspicious and she moved away from the door, feeling the way her fangs slowly slid out of her gums at the realisation that something was not right. Whoever was fumbling with the lock hadn’t realised that it had been unlocked to begin with and had obviously expected it to be locked shut the begin with judging by the muffled curse of annoyance as they realised their mistake. Before she could move or decide what to do the door creaked open, and a pair of individuals moved inside.  
  
If Serana wasn’t wary before, then the sight of the two vampires who walked into the room was more than enough. They were grinning with their mouths full of fangs, blood still dripping down the front of their tunics from where they had recently fed. Judging by the still and prone figures of her two ‘handlers’ there was no doubt who the two vampires had fed on.  
  
“Salonia. Stalf. I would say that it’s nice to see you both but I would be lying.”  
  
Both of the vampires grinned fiercer and she found herself hemmed in between them. Both were not hiding their true forms in the slightest, and while she recognised them both from her father’s court they were not some of the originals. They both had the stink of middle-aged vampires about them, and Serana only knew their names from the few short weeks she had stayed at the castle after Kaius’ departure.  
  
“Princess. Your father has missed your presence.” Salonia Caelia may have been a beautiful woman once, but the years of vampiric pollution in her veins had corrupted her flesh to match the darkness of her soul. The eyes burned with fire, and like many of the later generations of the Volkihar clan her face had been twisted, nose flaring out and becoming ridged like a bat and lips and face growing taut across shifting bones.  
  
Her companion grinned with his full predatory nature. Stalf had once been a minor thane of one of the northern holds, but any nobility of his birth had been drowned in his vampiric blood. “He has sent us to retrieve you.”  
  
“I’m not going anywhere, and I’m certainly not going back to the castle.”  
  
“Well, suit yourself.” Salonia’s voice was sibilant and mocking as she moved closer to Serana. “It’s really too bad you know. The little accident you had here, but what do you expect when a vampire goes to a group of cattle for help?”  
  
“Yeah, too bad.” Just as mocking, Stalf’s tone was lowering itself to a crawling whisper and the grin they both shared were terrible to behold. “Lord Harkon’s daughter, dead so soon after finally returning to the family.”  
  
“I suppose we’re just lucky that I was here to return the scroll to Vingalmo, so he could make sure Harkon gets it back.”  
  
Stalf stopped in mid stride, his face even more hideous when twisted in surprise. “Wait, what? That’s not what we agreed. We take it back together.”  
  
With her back against the wall, Serana could only watch in confusion as the two vampires’ attentions turned away from her and to each other.  
  
“Idiot.” It was impossible for Salonia to place any more hatred and loathing into the single word as she spat it in Stalf’s face. “you didn’t really think I’d let you walk out of here either did you? Vingalmo wants you both dead.”  
  
Surprisingly Stalf seemed to enjoy this confession, and he dragged his sword from where it was at his side. “Well that’s just fine. Orthjolf told me to finish off anyone who got in the way.”  
  
The clumsy lunge with his sword was not directed at Serana, but at Salonia instead, jamming it forward with the full intent on skewering the other vampiress where she stood. In the space of a heartbeat the battle between the two of them had erupted in all the fury and violence that the vampire race could afford, and Serana found herself little more than a spectator to their undying hatred. A sword and dagger clashed together, clothes ripped under bestial talons and fangs bit and snapped fruitlessly trying to sink into pale flesh.  
  
For her part, Serana had skirted around the brawling creatures as quickly as her own dark abilities allowed herself too, trying desperately to ignore the way that her body coiled and tingled with the promise of a dark power unlike the thin-bloods who had come to kill her. She knew all too well just how powerful she truly was, what powers and abilities she could call upon but despite the terrible lure she resisted and bolted through the opened door.  
  
Salonia and Stalf had just enough time to mutually realise what was happening before the solid oaken door slammed closed in their bestial faces. Both had been too invested in killing each other that they couldn’t do anything before it had closed with a boom and the lock snapped shut. This room hadn’t been chosen to house Serana at random, it was hardened, reinforced and the walls, floor, ceiling and door had been imbued with some of the most powerful enchantments available to containing the undead. Even Kaius would have been stuck inside for several hours before being able to break free, and there was no chance for the two half-breed vampires now contained inside.  
  
Not wasting any time, Serana rushed over to the nearby bell hanging from the wall. It had been placed in case she or any other vampiric occupants within the cell were attempting to escape, but now she began ringing it as hard and as loudly as she could. Judging by what her vampiric hearing was picking up her alarm was almost not needed at all, as the fortress began echoing with the sounds of screams, roars and the clashing of metal on metal.

 

* * *

   
  
Unknown at the time, Gunmar had been one of the first of the Dawnguard who had realised they were under attack and had managed to sound the alarm. He had been wandering in the direction of his own quarters near the smithy and animal pens when he had heard suspicious activity within the main hall. Almost comically, he had blundered right into the middle of a small group of vampires, three of which were cursing and grunting and hauling back on the wheels that controlled the portcullis and raising the enormous metal grating.  
  
No more than a glance was needed to realise that they were in serious trouble, especially as he took in the sights of a pair of guards lying motionless on the floor, and an enormous crowd pressing into the gateway. There were dozens of thralls, and several furless, black skinned dog like creatures in the press as well as several more vampires waiting for the portcullis to be raised. Without hesitation he had turned and fled, ripping an alarm bell off the wall in his haste and ringing it as loud and quickly as he could.  
  
As effective as it was in alerting the fortress to the threat they faced, it was just as effective at drawing the creature’s attention to him. Within seconds of the brass tolling echoing through the fortress that was returned by a chorus of orders being shouted it was obvious that he was being chased. Gunmar may have been many things, but a runner was not one of them and he had been quickly caught by a pair of the blood sucking monsters and a small pack of their attendant thralls.  
  
It was all he could do to curl up into a ball and weather the punches and kicks that rained down incessantly. He was larger both in size and body mass than all of them, but when the fight was eight against one there was little he could really do. What was worse was the way that they were obviously not attacking the fortress with the intent on killing them all. The fact that the creatures held back and _didn_ ’t feed did not bode well for anyone. They were seeking to destroy the Dawnguard, but they were not going to pass the opportunity to increase the number of thralls they could feed upon.  
  
A sandalled foot crashed into his face and he was left snorting and coughing from the wash of blood that streamed down over his mouth and chin. An eye went dark after one of the thralls grabbed him by the hair and punched him as hard as she could and he could feel the layers of bruises that were already beginning to show. The pain was incredible, and even worse than the time that he had gotten drunk and fought that cave bear the Khajiit caravan had tamed.  
  
“Enough. I might like my meat tenderised but we don’t want him crippled.”  
  
Unable to properly see with one eye already swollen shut, Gunmar could do little but look up at the grinning creature standing in front of him. It was undeniably a vampire, the twisted visage was unmistakable but the thin, malnourished individuals surrounding it were all mortals. Men and women alike they all had the same, stupefied expression that had always made him think of domesticated bovines. Each and every one of them were thin, heavy scar tissue packed densely around their throats and wrists and were dressed in a collection of rags and pieced together armour. The vampires had never been content with arming or equipping their thralls, they were only here to act as labourers and meat shields against the Dawnguard.  
  
“Lift him up.”  
  
A pair of hands, bone thin and cold gripped him under the armpits and they dragged him upright. The two thralls were smaller than him but after the beating the mob had just provided him it looked as though all of the fight had left him.  
  
“You’ll do I think.” The vampire said simply, giving him a quick up-and-down with its burning eyes with disgust written into its features. “I’m not one for the taste of Nord but others will appreciate the morsel.”  
  
A little more than a glance from the creature was all that was needed to command the two thralls holding him by the arms and for the briefest of seconds he made the show of being compliant. Then the second was gone, and he twisted around, slamming his head as hard as he could into one face before turning, pulling the other close and slamming a knee into a groin with such force that the thrall was lifted several centimetres off the floor. Despite being bent to the will of a corrupted and damned monster there was little in the world that could allow a mortal to remain standing from just injuries and they both folded over in agony.  
  
“Get him you useless scum!” roared the vampire as Gunmar exploded into activity. His injuries were slowing him down but he was thankful that he didn’t have far to run. His living quarters were nearby, and he had chosen such a room because it was adjacent to the smithy and the animal pens. From the sounds of things, the rest of the Dawnguard were in the middle of a battle for survival and would be unable to lend him any aid, but he had other friends to call upon.  
  
The key hanging from its leather loop around his throat was snatched away in mid run, and ducking and weaving through the corridors and semi-abandoned rooms he managed to buy himself precious time from the mob of thralls surging after him. They were baying for his blood almost as much as their vampiric masters were, but he didn’t allow himself any time to consider the situation he was caught in. Purely running on adrenaline and forcing himself to ignore the vivid collection of bruising and swelling all over his body he kicked open and door and leapt inside without hesitation.  
  
Slamming the heavy wooden door closed and flicking the latch, he knew that he had seconds to spare and only if he was lucky. The cavern where the animal pens were located was a canopy of noise, of dogs barking and howling at the sound of battle that they could hear throughout the fortress but he didn’t waste any time with them. Isran had allowed him to purchase just over two dozen war and hunting dogs but for the most part they were still needing weeks of training before they could fight against vampires. There was only one pen and one pen only that he skidded to a stop before, fumbling with the enormous lock and chains that kept the reinforced door closed and grunting with relief as his key clicked into place.  
  
The punch, when it arrived drove all of the air out of his lungs and he was thrown several metres away from the enormous door. Abstractly he sensed rather than felt the way something _snapped_ in his chest when he landed, finding himself suddenly more concerned with the fact that he was having problems breathing more than anything else. That and there was the issue that another vampire was now looming over him.  
  
“Very clever meat. Very, very clever.” It growled at him, moving over to where he had landed as he groaned in agony and tried to roll over.  
  
“Oh, don’t rise on my behalf. Take a _seat_!” A leather boot pushed him back down, the heel grinding into his sternum and he tried to push it weakly away. The leg within the boot and tunic was harder than ebony and impossible to dislodge but he tried anyway.  
  
The door that he had slammed behind him was little more than matchwood to the first vampire and its pack of thralls, and it exploded aside with a well-placed kick. In seconds the room was filled with almost a dozen thralls and the two vampires, all moving about and looking at the squirming Nord under a vampiric boot.  
  
“Are these your pets?” growled one of the creatures, grinning triumphantly as it gestured to the collection of closed pens where the chorus of growls and endless barking was emanating from. “Then it is going to be fitting watching them all die.”  
  
Spears, daggers, swords and axes were drawn by the thralls as the two vampires ordered their minions to move towards the pens. They were obviously not expecting Gunmar’s reaction of laughter as he looked at them all, and the door that he had almost be successful in opening.  
  
“What’s so funny meat?”  
  
Spitting blood that dribbled down the side of his face, he didn’t relax the grip he had on the vampire’s leg on his chest. “Stendarr’s wrath is about to fall upon you.”  
  
“We don’t fear your impotent god any more than we fear you, meat.”  
  
At their backs, the chains assisting in keeping the reinforced pen closed had fallen away and the door itself trembled as the creature within nudged it curiously. One of the thralls saw the strange movement and moved closer, dagger held in a thin, anaemic hand but still grinning confidently.  
  
The corrupted mortal’s expression turned to horror as the door slowly swung open, and they had to crane their head back to look into the eyes of the creature the pen contained. Almost two and half metres tall, and weighing half a tonne of pure muscle the enormous shaggy troll stepped out into the light of the cavern and looked about the small collection of beings in front of it.  
  
It's triad of eyes in the centre of its skull squinted at the sight of so many being in front of it, but as it moved out of all fours its gaze only seemed to linger on the man under the vampire’s boot. The man who had raised it from a trolling to the enormous beast it had become.  
  
To the vampires and the thralls, it was not the sight of a full grown troll in the fortress that was the most concerning. What was worse was the way that it had covered in thick leather and armoured plates, its already resilient hide immune to most weaponry having been enhanced with metal rivets and bolted directly into its flesh. Gunmar had spent years training the creature since it was an infant, and taking full advantage of its incredible healing ability and complete immunity to pain he had created an armoured behemoth capable of fighting a dragon with reasonable chances of success. The armour alone weighed more than a warhorse’s barding, and he had further enhanced its deadly nature by fixating a pair of enormous blades on the back of each wrist.  
  
Unable to whistle through his swollen lips, Gunmar laughed triumphantly in the horrified face of the vampire standing on him.  
  
“Stendarr.” He said simply, calling out loud enough to draw his pet’s attention.  
  
_“Kill.”_

 

* * *

 

  
  
Fura Bloodmouth was in ecstasy. After so many months of hearing about the pesky vampire hunters, and after so many _years_ since she had a true hunt she was knee deep in death once more. Lord Harkon had commanded her to lead the glorious attack against the fortress and in doing so had sent his greatest killer.  
  
She had slaughtered her way through every hunter she could find, choosing not to pause or restrain herself or take prisoners like the other vampires were doing. She did not give mercy, she did not have restraint and when her Lord commanded her to _kill_ , then that was exactly what she did.  
  
The other pitiful members of Harkon’s court could concern themselves with herding the cattle and fleshing out their stocks of thralls but she was a killer to the core. Let Orthjolf and Vingalmo have their petty schemes and ceaseless bickering. A thousand years of dealing with them allowed her to know that they only desired political power and would never understand the true power of the blood.  
  
It was this power that drove her onwards through the halls of Fort Dawnguard. She swirled through the darkness, wrapping it around her like a cloak but unlike the halfbreeds and weaklings following in her wake she chose to reappear within full sight of her prey. To simply fall upon the cattle and feed was not good enough sport and she was not going to simply let this killing be over with before she had her fill of death.  
  
One of the hunters was borne down screaming, his throat ripped to ribbons by her fangs even as he tried unsuccessfully to jam a sword between her ribs. These Dawnguard were exceptional foes, and the others she had killed had been some of the closest fights she had in centuries but they were still mortal fools. Even with their tricks and devices she was not a mere youngblood and although two of the vampires following in her wake had been left as burning ash and bones from silver swords and distracting powders she had remained untouched.  
  
Another died as she ripped an arm away, sword and all and left the shrieking vampire hunter to be born to the ground by another of Harkon’s court. Some blood had already gone down her throat but she was seeking better prey to slake her thirst. The leader of the hunters would have been preferable but she was resigning herself to the possible fate of consuming his subordinates instead.  
  
It wasn’t as though Fura was limited in her selection. The living quarters housed a considerable number of the hunters and even with a hunting pack at her spine and a collection of thralls following there were so many to choose from. The largest collection of beating hearts was behind one of the double doors at the far end of the corridor, and choosing to ignore the fact that all the rooms either side were completely empty she rushed onwards.  
  
Her pack was readied, the collection of thralls prepared to charge forward and the doors were closed in their faces. No doubt the hunters were realising their folly of taunting the true masters of the night and were trying desperately to hide. Maybe they realised that the very beating of their hearts were drawing the predators right too them, maybe they didn’t. It didn’t matter to Fura as she stepped in front of the doors and kicked them open with an enormous crash and splintering of wood.  
  
She was expecting screams, pleas of mercy and the pathetic grovelling of mortals when faced with half a dozen vampires and a dozen thralls. Instead she found herself staring, mouth falling open in shock at the sight of the Dawnguard arrayed before her.  
  
Standing off to the side of the collection of hunters, Sorine Jurand grinned underneath the helmet she was wearing. “ _Oooh_. You made it. Congratulations.”  
  
Two ranks of Dawnguard, all half-dressed and wearing a collection of armour pieces they had managed to drag on were arrayed in a semi-circle around the main entrance to the barracks. While underdressed and mostly lacking their armour, what they weren’t missing were their weapons. The six vampires and their mortal thralls found themselves staring at thirty loaded crossbows; all of which were loaded and pointed in their direction.  
  
Fura’s mouth struggled to form words and in some abstract part of her mind she noticed how two of the orc hunters were wielding arbalests so enormous they were practically dismounted ballista. There was a hint of shuffling and the creaking of trigger mechanisms as the assembled Dawnguard adjusted their aims.

  
“Fuck me.” she stammered, a split second before she and her pack were punched off their feet by the first volley of silver tipped bolts.

 

* * *

   
  
Despite their hatred and opinions of the Dawnguard, the vampires had come in full force. Four or five thralls for every vampire, and several dozen of the lesser members of the Volkihar clan had come to utterly destroy the order entirely and while many of their number were getting bogged down in the unexpected fighting throughout the fortress, there were others who had very specific tasks. Some, like Stalf and Salonia had been tasked with finding and retrieving Serana, and others had been ordered to find the Elder Scroll and confirm the truth of whether a Moth Priest had arrived at the fort recently. For those few creatures who found the cowering priest in his quarters, his eyes covered with a strip of cloth they soon turned to tormenting the old man.  
  
Shoving, pushing and prowling about him as he tried his best to cower and turn his blind eyes towards his tormentors, Dexion had been filled with a terror that he had never thought possible. The trio of vampires and their small collection of thralls were running about the room, growling, shrieking and cackling as they took great pleasure in terrorising him, but another voice, a friendly voice was the greatest thing to have ever reached his ears.  
  
“I guess you weren’t lying then Arkay, there really are vampires in here.”  
  
As one, the collection of the damned and corrupted turned to the appearance of the orange robed priest casually strolling his way into their midst. He was unarmed, unarmoured and outnumbered but there was no sign of fear about him. Despite soon finding himself surrounding by the vampires and their mortal pawns, Florentius had continued on with his seemingly one-sided conversation with the heavens.  
  
“Are you seeking your death?” Growled one of the vampires as Florentius moved closer to his elderly friend. “Or do you think that your god will protect you?”  
  
“Hold your tongue. The dead do not speak.” Even for the vampires, there was something strange with the gleaming expression in Florentius eye as he made sure that Dexion was fine. “Arkay has been watching over me for years now, not that I will need his help with you lot.”  
  
“Some confidence you have there, priest. Let’s see how your blood tastes.”  
  
“See how they doubt you?” there was a sigh from Florentius as he spared a glance upwards. “It is my sworn duty to see Arkay’s wrath delivered to all the undead. Will you and your kind deign to raise an army, fall into ranks with those mortals who embrace a _heretical_ order and expect to stand uncontested? Arkay will not allow it. _I, will not allow it!_ ”  
  
The star shaped pendant with the rounded citrine gem was plucked from his throat, and all the vampires present had their gaze drawn to the collection of beads hanging from the amulet. Each of the beads were crudely made, but were undeniably silver and they watched with amusement as Florentius wrapped them around a fist.  
  
“I once killed thirty vampires with my bare hands you know.” The manic gleam in his eyes was growing stronger by the second as he lowered himself into an experienced fighting stance. “I’d tell you to ask Arkay but it’s easier to show you all instead.”

 

* * *

 

He had been expecting this moment to come from the very instant he had chosen to rebuild the Dawnguard. He had planned, schemed, prepared but when the vampires finally attacked Isran was no longer sure he was truly ready for it. despite all their best efforts, months, if not years of designing and preparing they had still managed to breach the fortress’s defences and were cutting and biting their way through his hunters.  
  
Even before the first warning bell began sounding he knew that something was wrong. Years had attuned his instincts to incredible levels and he was no longer certain whether his senses were entirely human anymore. The same warning instinct that saw him cladding himself in his armour instead of commencing his nightly mediation allowed him to slay the first vampire who kicked open his door before they realised they were under attack.  
  
But nothing else was going according to plan. A dozen of the creatures had managed to infiltrate their way past the guards on the ramparts and their focus had been clear. They had rushed the main hall, opening the gates and the portcullis and allowing a veritable flood of the damned and cursed into the forts interior. Death hounds, thralls and vampires alike were swarming through the fortress and he knew that the main hall had to be held if they were going to have any chance to survive the night.  
  
Enacting one of his many, _many_ contingencies, the length of chain slithered and writhed its way down the pulley system he had installed above the walkway outside of his quarters. The walkway was only large enough for two men to walk abreast, as was the spiralling stairwells which as effective as it was in bottling an assaulting force, it was counterproductive in allowing the defenders to counter attack and reclaim the fortress.  
  
In full view of several shocked thralls, Isran took a running start, hurdled the balcony railing and simply reached out and grasped the unspooling chain with both hands, catching it and dropping down the five stories only slightly slower than if had simply fell. Audibly grunting as the chain suddenly stopped he released his grip, ignoring the twinge in his shoulders as he dropped, rolled on the ground floor and came up fighting.  
  
Surrounded by enemies and alone in a sea of evil he didn’t reach for his blessed rune hammer slung down his spine. There was a time and a place for such an application of force and power and this was not it. instead his hands moved of their own accord, punching a thrall off her feet, spearing a throwing knife into the chest of another before shattering a gourd of silver dust across the head of the third. Even before half of them realised of the threat in their midst two were already dead or dying, and the handful of vampires within the hall were already feeling the effects of the silver particles in the air.  
  
Then he drew the Light of Dawn.  
  
He had practiced with the incredible blade relentlessly over the months since Kaius had pressed it into his hands but this was the first time that he had drawn it in true battle. There had been that more recent attempt to slay Kaius that he used the blade, but Kaius’ skills were proof against even the incredible enchantment that allowed it to cut through _anything_. Against a pack of thralls and their undead masters it proved its true worth.  
  
One thrall simply fell into two pieces, the look of shock on the man’s face etched into Isran’s mind as the immaculate weapon cut him from shoulder to hip without even a tug of resistance. Another died as he swiped his legs out from under him and cutting his head off before he could even fall or realise the injury. The blade made a complete mockery of everything standing before him, cutting and gashing and disembowelling everything and everyone in his path to the chained wheels controlling the portcullis.  
  
Screaming with pain and rage, a vampire rushed him despite its flesh peeling away from the effects of the silver dust. Isran didn’t even slow down, throwing a bolt of pure starlight from his hands that stuck the being in the face and left its flesh smouldering. One eye was left charred and blackened from the holy bolt, but its true introduction to pain began as Isran impaled it through the chest on the Light of Dawn.  
  
Kaius had told him several times about the weapons unique ability against vampires, about how the sparkling, gleaming sword with lights twinkling in the depths of the blue-black metal would come to life when it tasted vampiric blood. For his part Isran had simply passed it off as a fabrication, as another tale from his hated adversary with no merit or founding in reality. As he kicked the shrieking vampire off the edge of the sword he discovered that yet again he had been wrong about Kaius when the entire blood soaked length erupted with vampire scaling light.  
  
The vampire he had speared with the Light of Dawn shrieked and died in a burst of ashes and burning bones, dropping backwards in a writhing mass as the light stripped it of flesh. For those few seconds that the light shone from the enchanted weapon every vampire in the room felt its caress, leaving them covered with weeping red sores as though they had sprayed with boiling oil.  
  
For the first time in decades, Isran was left openly shocked as he looked at the sword in his hands as the light faded away into nothingness. The blade was still gleaming with distant lights in the metal, but the realisation that this truly was the ancient sword of legends left him grinning fiercely behind his wiry beard.  
  
Again he went on the attack, but the unique nature of the sword had drawn the attention of every foe within the hall and they rushed him _en masse_. Thralls roared and screamed as they were cut down, a death hound yelped as he stabbed it in mid leap and flicked it over a shoulder and a vampire shrieked its last as its life was burned away by the sword’s enchantment. Even for him there were too many, and without support he found himself overwhelmed.  
  
Latching onto the armoured plates covering his shin, a deathhound ripped him off is feet and began worrying and shaking his leg back and forth in an attempt to maul the flesh. the vicing pressure in his leg was incredible, but was quickly forgotten as a thrall managed to kick him in the ribs that knocked the wind out of him. They swarmed his suddenly prone form even as he killed and cut with the Light of Dawn. A thrall dropped screaming as he chopped her legs out from under her, and another was pulled in close before the sparkling blade cut his throat in a wash of blood. but for every foe he killed, another two took their place.  
  
**_“Fus ro dah!”_**  
  
As unstoppable as an avalanche, the _wall_ of power and sound ripped through the press and blasted them off their feet. In the back of his mind Isran knew that it hadn’t been aimed at him in the slightest, but the power of the Thu’um was enough to feel like a punch to the face even though it hadn’t touched him directly. For those who it was aimed at they had no chance. Bones shattered, flesh was pulped and the broken remains of several thralls and a vampire were thrown away like broken toys. One of the thralls bounced off the wall with such force it left a humanoid starburst of blood and gore dripping down the stonework, and the vampire simply exploded in burning viscera.  
  
Seizing the momentary advantage that the explosive wall of death had provided, he kicked the death hound gnawing on his leg with the other. Like a snapping branch he felt its jaw break a second before he hacked down with the Light of Dawn, ensuring that it wouldn’t rise again.  
  
Kaius had joined the battle, as had a handful of Dawnguard at his back and judging by the snorting and bellowing roars echoing from the direction of the animal pens, Gunmar’s pet was being put to good use. A handful of thralls were fleeing from that direction and were completely heedless to anything or anyone, even their corrupted loyalties to their vampiric masters unable to withstand the horror of facing half a tonne of very pissed off and heavily armoured troll.  
  
Despite his hatred for Kaius, it was obvious that his training and interactions with the Dawnguard were paying off. There was no fear or uncertainty in any of the dozen hunters following Kaius into the maelstrom that was the main hall, they simply moved with ice in their veins, hacking in short economical movements and protecting their comrades at all times. several took turns loading and firing their crossbows, ensuring that every two seconds one of each pair was firing and the other loading with mechanical precision. Their appearance, and Kaius’ ability to speak the tongue of Dragons finally forced the vampires to realise that there was no salvaging the situation.  
  
In ones and twos initially, thralls and their undead masters turned to flee and within seconds it had turned into a full rout. A thrown pair of daggers had knocked the locking mechanisms for the wheels keeping the portcullis raised and grinding and shrieking it ground closed, trapping a number of the beings within the hall and trapping them between the enormous metal gate and the Dawnguard.  
  
Showing clearly their supernatural abilities, a trio of vampires had realised their plight and had thrown their muscles into the portcullis while their thralls and several of their number dropped with silver tipped bolts lodged deep in their flesh. The collection of death hounds was already dead or very close to it and the floors were coated with blood and ash but in sight of all present the trio managed to haul the portcullis up on their shoulders, roaring with the effort.  
  
There was nothing that they could do to stop the last of the creatures from escaping, despite the continuous volleys from the handful of Dawnguard crossbows many of the thralls were sacrificing themselves as human shields to protect the half dozen vampires in the press. Isran railed at the thought of letting even as single one escape and charged forward with the Light of Dawn raised high but a gloved hand, tipped with talons grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him onto his back.  
  
Striding forward with broadsword tightly gripping in one hand, there was no doubt about Kaius’s true nature as he snarled through a mouth completely filled with needle like fangs. His jaw was somehow unhinged to allow the enormous lengths of the razored teeth that had replaced his mortal and there was nothing but inky blackness in his eyes. Even the bones of his face were jutting and erupting forward, twisting his visage into one of vampiric hatred even as he shouted _Yol Toor Shul_ directly into the press of corrupted humanity.  
  
Kaius inhaled deeply during the _Yol_ , exhaling with hurricane force for the _Toor Shul_ and his very breath turned the air to fire. Purposely drawing out the last two words he turned the enclosed gateway into the heart of a furnace, filling it with white hot flames that hurt to even glance at. The shout only lasted for a few seconds before the fires had passed and Kaius stepped back with a grin on his face that Isran could only describe as _draconic_.  
  
None of the vampires or the thralls that had been in the gateway survived. Many had simply ceased to exist in the roaring power of Kaius’ _Thu’um_. Here and there a few molten blobs of metal could be seen rapidly cooling into the stone floor but these were all that was left of the various swords, maces and other weapons their foes had been wielding. Nothing of flesh or cloth or leather remained.  
  
Smiling, no signs of the vampire was left on Kaius’ face as he moved closer and into the passage that had only seconds before been filled with a mass of enemies. Not even the four centimetre talons on each finger were visible on the hand that had pulled Isran out of the way of his dragon’s breath.  
  
“Looks like I owe Sorine some money.” He said simply, laughing as he looked at the way the portcullis glowed with heat and began clicking and popping as the metal cooled. “It really can stand up to dragonfire.”


	5. A New Dawn

“So you’re saying that we killed anywhere between sixteen and twenty vampires, in the vicinity of fifty thralls and took two vampires prisoner for the total cost of seven dead, and sixteen wounded?”  
  
Sorine nodded, glancing between Gunmar and the other leaders of the Dawnguard at the expression of shock on Isran’s face. It was the most emotion any of them had ever seen him wear other than anger and hatred.  
  
“And those sixteen are only the ones who had suffered significant injuries. Nearly everyone suffered a few scrapes and bruises but otherwise the worst of the sixteen is Bear here.”  
  
Resting his head in his hands and elbows on the table, Gunmar looked up in pain from the various injuries he had sustained at the hands of the thralls and vampires. Everyone who looked at him winced slightly as he finally managed to wriggle the broken root of a tooth out of his jaw and spat a mouthful of blood on the floor. “I guess they’ve learned not to fuck with us then?”  
  
“They will be back.” Durak rumbled, his words growling out of his barrel chest and from his tusked jaw. “We bloodied their nose though.”  
  
How certain are we of the tally?”  
  
Usually not one lost for words when it came to specifics, statistics and details, Sorine shrugged openly. “We have no idea. Between that… that shout of Kaius’ frying a majority of them and _Cuddles_ leaving the smithy smeared with vampire dust and gore there’s no real way of telling.”  
  
The growl from Gunmar was as deep as the fortress’ foundations and he stabbed a broken piece of tooth in everyone’s direction in warning. “How many times do I have to tell everyone that is not his name. It’s _Stendarr_.”  
  
“You can blame Sofia for that one.” Kaius replied, rubbing at the stubble at his jaw where he had been scraping a dagger across the skin with an uneasy precision. “But Durak’s right. They will come back and this time they will not be holding back in the slightest.”  
  
“We got lucky.” Isran’s tone left no illusion of his precise thoughts in the matter but there was a collective shaking of heads from his subordinates.  
  
“Only a little Isran.” Gunmar said around a finger probing his gums for other fragments of teeth. “It’s true the cost in blood was a lot less than any of us could have expected but we can’t just mark that up to the suckheads wanting to take us all prisoner. We were ready for them as much as we could be without waiting behind the front door with crossbows aimed.”  
  
“Sorine and her lot did that, remember?”  
  
There were a few chuckles all around at Kaius’ comment and for a moment they all forgot that they were sharing the table with a vampire. Isran was the only one who didn’t but he was watching Kaius in a different way to his usual manner.  
  
“But they will return, and the next time they will not be content in what was for all intents a slave raid. Next time they won’t hold back anything.”  
  
“So what do you suggest?”  
  
Kaius looked between Durak and the others, seeing the way that they were all looking and listening. His advice on how to fight the vampires had paid off spectacularly during the night and while there were a lot of people hurt and broken most would be ready to fight again over the coming weeks.  
  
“The vampires need a different target and one that isn’t going to be easy for them to attack or find.”  
  
“Explain.”  
  
The growl from Isran brooked no insubordination and unlike his usual manner Kaius was deadly serious. “Last night they came to destroy the Dawnguard yes, but they were also coming for Serana and the Elder Scroll. There’s not much more we can do with the scroll as we already know what it contains. What we need is to find the other two which means agents in the field.”  
  
“Which means you.”  
  
The simple nod from Kaius told them more than words ever could. “I need to track down the Dragon Scroll and I have a lead on where to continue the search. In the next few days I will be leaving with Lydia and Sofia for Winterhold and its college which should give you all some breathing space from being attacked.”  
  
“How is you leaving going to help us?” there was no mistaking the sudden unease at the table and Sorine’s voice wavered very slightly before she caught the glance from Isran. “I mean they know that the Dawnguard aren’t pushovers anymore, especially after last night.”  
  
“Actually they will still think that you are all a bunch of weaklings and they will continue to underestimate you. Harkon especially will only hear what he expects to hear and those under him will not dissuade him of the fact.”  
  
“But we killed so many of them last night.”  
  
Kaius nodded simply to Gunmar, gesturing with the knife as he scraped away the last of the stubble along his jawline before turning his attention to trimming his goatee. “Yes. You did. None of the vampires that faced you all last night survived, and there was only a few who got away and they had been the ones that faced me instead. You were all extremely effective.”  
  
“Harkon will think that the only reason why we survived is because of you.” Isran said very flatly.  
  
“Well, not to go about blowing my own trumpet but my training helped out immensely. But when Harkon receives word about how they failed so miserably and especially from the one or two that I let get away he’ll think that I and I alone stopped the attack. He won’t give you and the rest of the Dawnguard a second thought and instead will concentrate on hunting me down.” The way that Kaius chuckled sent shivers up the spines of all those present. “He will especially hate me for this defeat and that hate will be beneficial. He’s about as mentally stable as a sack full of cats and I know that he is especially annoyed with me after I told him to go fuck himself.”  
  
“He’ll send everything he has after you.”  
  
“Yep. Even with the numbers of vampires affiliated with the clan throughout Skyrim, he’s going to have a hard time trying to keep track of me if I’m constantly on the move.”  
  
The collection of hunters looked between themselves and Isran stared silently at Kaius, watching him carefully and trying his best to understand the being sitting in front of him. He had come to his aid during the fight in the main hall, and Isran still wasn’t sure about how he felt about the way how Kaius had pulled him out of the way before destroying the vampires and their minions with the Thu’um. There would not have been a better opportunity to have removed him from the equation and it had truly highlighted to Isran that if Kaius wished it, the entire Dawnguard would have been annihilated.  
  
Now the mere fact that Kaius was willingly taking the full wrath of the Volkihar vampires on himself and had even arranged for it wasn’t sitting right in Isran’s stomach. He wasn’t going to let such a situation slip through his fingers but for a moment the sliver of uncertainty within him made itself felt.  
  
“What about our other suckhead? It is pretty clear that Harkon wants her back.”  
  
“I’m fairly confident that you and the rest of the Dawnguard can fend off whatever vampires come looking for the scroll but you are right. While she is here he will send others to retrieve her.”  
  
“You have an idea then?” Isran said simply, surprising himself in the realisation that he actually wanted to know Kaius’ opinion.  
  
“One or two.”  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
The chill of winter was slowly encroaching the lands, but while summer still held sway it would be some time before the snows would fall again. For the moment the fortress was secured, fortified and well manned with a contingent of Dawnguard who were now extremely confident in their abilities against their undead foes. A number could be seen on the ramparts high above their heads, but for the small group standing near the gatehouse their attentions were focussed on the armoured man leading them.  
  
Lydia had suffered a few minor scratches from her run in with a pair of thralls during the vampiric attack, and the worst injury Sofia had suffered was the cataclysmic hangover that had lasted the better part of two days once the alcohol and adrenaline had worn off. In the three days since the attack they had prepared as per Kaius’ word, readying their equipment or in Sofia’s case finding just where exactly she had put her chainmail shirt. Once more they were all ready, armed and armoured, travellers packs thrown over shoulders and filled with hard tack and rations for the journey ahead.  
  
Standing before his companions, Kaius lifted his head and gave a brief wave to the assembled commanders of the Dawnguard looking down from the stone capped ramparts. Isran gave the briefest of nods that was so minute that it might have never existed at all before he turned and faded from sight. Grinding, the portcullis closed tightly shut and it was clear that their latest journey had begun.  
  
“Well, I hope we are all ready.” He said simply, giving each of the women a smile born of confidence.  
  
Standing alongside Sofia and Lydia’s armoured forms, Serana appeared to have to tear her sight away from the canyon and the rolling vista before her. Hooded, cloaked and otherwise concealed from the sun’s light there wasn’t much of her pale flesh to be seen, but the glints were clearly visible in the shadows of her hood.  
  
“I am.” She said, her eyes burning with excitement at entering the world she had waited centuries to see. 


End file.
